


The World Beyond Your Eyes

by Brentavius_Rex



Series: The World Beyond Your Eyes [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brentavius_Rex/pseuds/Brentavius_Rex
Series: The World Beyond Your Eyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874269





	The World Beyond Your Eyes

_This is Hell_ , she thought. _I’m actually in Hell._

She honestly could not remember when she had gotten into this infernal line. Had it been hours? days? It honestly felt like she had been standing in line forever. Or, what passed for forever in a place where time has no meaning.

By the Three, she hated eternity.

Ahead of her, the queue stretched off into the distance toward what could have been a wall. It could also have been a trick of the Light masking a complete lack of a wall. Behind her, if she cared enough to turn around for the hundredth time, the line stretched off toward another maybe-wall-maybe-not in the distance. 

On either side, metal barriers separated her from a row of others that filled the same possibly infinite stretches, though facing in the opposite direction. On the other side of those rows, another set of barriers, then another pair of maybe infinite lines disappeared into the distance, except facing in the same direction as she. And so on and so on, a barrier then a line facing the opposite way, a barrier then a line facing the same way, as far as she could see in either direction. 

By the Three, she hated infinity, too.

Every so often, the queue would undulate, gaps expanding and contracting like the segments of some giant earthworm digging its way through the infinite space of the metal barriers. Sometimes a gap would worm its way past her on one side and disappear into the infinite, finally making its way to her row and her place in it after what might have been many days. Other times, a gap would appear beside her and she would find one ahead of her almost immediately. Strangely, though she could always see the approaching gap, regardless of how long it took to get to her place in line, she could not recall seeing it deeper in the queue once it was past her.

She shifted from one foot to the other, mostly out of boredom rather than discomfort. The floor beneath her may as well have been a thick carpet of clouds for as soft as it was. Of course, whatever the far distance in every direction of the infinite space was made of might as well be made of clouds, too. And--well, no. The ceiling that couldn’t possibly be one looked like it was just open to blue sky and puffy bundles of white clouds and long strips of thin clouds and … 

She rolled her eyes. She supposed those in the mortal realms could be forgiven for thinking everything Up Here was made of clouds. The architects must have done everything in their power to make it look like it was. As wrong as it was, she had no problem imagining mortals picturing diaper-clad winged babies with white skin and blond hair playing their little four-stringed golden horseshoe harps on top of slightly larger than them mats of giant cotton balls. Long lost loved ones and dearly departed pets, all in white or with little halos attached by a wire, holding hands and singing songs of praise and love and… 

She shook her head, trying to clear the images before she somehow managed to choke on the saccharine. The truth, she could assure anyone that wanted to know, would be much less cheerful.

Beside her, the line started to shift, the coiled metal spring of a slinky stretching and compressing, as those waiting noticed the emptiness in front of them and moved to fill it. But not too quickly. No need to bump into the one in front of them. As if to pass the time, she started to count the seconds until the gap reached her. Unfortunately, she lost count around forty and gave up not long after. Instead, she turned her attention to the file in her hands.

A plain third tab manilla file folder contained everything about her and her education. Grades at the top of her class, accolades for physical fitness and ability, commendations for dedication to the cause, and to the execution of said cause. All of her instructors loved her. At least, initially. They generally had a hard time overlooking her… lineage.

“Next!”

After the second or third “Next!” someone tapped her shoulder and wordlessly pointed ahead of her. Thanks to the nonlinear time and space of the infinite filing office queue, apparently it was her turn. She stepped past the end of the metal barriers, rushing her last few steps to the assistance window. She plopped the file down on the counter, a rectangular not quite stone box sticking out from the bottom of a tall narrow arch in the wall, whatever it was made of.

Tucking an errant strand of black hair behind her ear, she smiled as sweetly as she could.

“Hi! I’m here to pick up my--”

“Name,” the crone behind the window croaked. Her gray hair was pulled up in a bun that was at the same time both too tight and too loose. Thin glasses slid down the tip of her pointed nose, threatening to fall off if the beaded chain hanging down over her shoulders even thought about moving even the slightest little bit. Bony thin fingers creaked as they hovered over the ancient keyboard at her station.

“Name,” the crone prompted again.

“Oh, right,” she said, flustered. She slid the folder closer to the other side of the window. “I’m Lilith and this is my file--” 

“Age,” the crone said, ignoring anything other than the screen in front of her. Identical voices scratched their way out of similar windows, assisting (or failing to assist) an infinite number of others along the infinite wall.

“Uh,” she stammered, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“First Generation? Second Generation?” the crone began, _you can’t possibly be serious right now_ dripping from every word.

“Oh oh oh! Right! Yes, ok. I’m Fourth Generation. I’m much too young to be First or Second,” she added with a nervous laugh. 

The crone blinked slowly, long eyelashes flopping lazily. She could almost swear they were gathering dust right before her eyes.

“Parents,” the crone asked, returning her attention to the screen.

Lilith sighed. “My mom died when I was very young.”

“Mother: deceased,” the crone repeated, and Lilith scoffed at the cold delivery. “Divine or Infernal?”

“Divine,” Lilith answered quietly.

“Father?” 

Lilith blushed, ducking her head a little. She pushed the folder forward again.

“All that information is already here in my--”

“Father?”

“It’s in the file. I don’t feel comfortable saying.” 

“Father?”

“Please,” Lilith almost begged, “I really would rather not answer that"--she cast a nervous glance around--"here.”

“Name?”

“Name?” Lilith repeated, dumbfounded. “I already told you my--”

“Name?”

“I’m Lilith!” She strained to keep her voice to a reasonable level.

“Age?”

“What--I already told you!”

“Name?”

Lilith wailed, throwing her head back and grabbing the sides of her hair. When she looked back at the crone, lightning crackled in her eyes. She reached through the window, grabbing the crone by the front of her gray single button cardigan, and pulled her over the small workstation.

“I am Lilith van Duviel,” she growled quietly. “I am the youngest daughter of Malkam van Duviel, He who Bore the Divine Light of the High King, and an angel who didn't live long enough to be my mother. If you have any other questions, they are in my file!” With that, she released her grip and allowed the crone to drop back into her tiny chair, which creaked in protest at being so abused.

“Father: living,” the crone said as if the last interaction had been completely commonplace. “And infernal,” the crone added, much too loudly for Lilith’s comfort. Lilith groaned and tried to hide her face behind her hand.

“Thank you, Miss van Duviel.” The crone reached into a pigeon-holed file on the wall of her workstation and pulled out a rolled parchment. 

“The Three would like to thank you for your performance and dedication to the cause,” the crone said in a well-rehearsed monotone probably delivered hundreds of times to each graduating class, ”by presenting you with this Certificate of Divinity upon your graduation. You now have access to all realms Mortal, Magical, and Spiritual. Including the After, and Below.”

Muttering an embarrassed thanks, Lilith rolled up the CD and tucked it into her robes. As she started to turn away, the crone said, “Please report to Master Engelbrecht for assignment.”

“Master Engelbrecht?” Lilith couldn’t recall hearing that name before.

“He handles all new Shepherds of Souls.”

Lilith groaned again. _Great,_ she thought. _Reaper duty._


End file.
